


perforaretur ad insaniam convertunt

by CampionSayn



Series: Goretober 2020 [8]
Category: Se7en (1995)
Genre: Flash Fic, Gen, Incidental Marriage, M/M, Period-Typical Internalized Homophobia, Post-Canon, Zombie Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2020-10-20
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:48:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26963935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CampionSayn/pseuds/CampionSayn
Summary: David might have once found this funny; the deadstalked, sprinted, ranthe earth and he was basically married to the partner he'd had for barely a week.But this was gross.
Relationships: David Mills/William Somerset
Series: Goretober 2020 [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1949095
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	perforaretur ad insaniam convertunt

David wasn't soft. Even after being catatonic and drugged to the gills at the county asylum for six months after he shot John Doe, he wasn't soft. After the world had undergone some sort of plague where the dead-not-dead stalked, _sprinted_ , **_ran_ **the earth, and was more or less in a non-sexual homo relationship with Somerset--a man at least _twice_ his age--he could not be considered _soft_.  
  
But jesus fuck was this sort of thing gross.  
  
Worse than that bucket of puke with Gluttony rotting in front of it, if he was being honest.  
  
  
He honestly couldn't believe that Somerset was basically working this off of reading a book from the library. The thing was detailed, sure, but in a really stupid Victorian way detailed. Not still wet, bound to a metal gurney they'd had to risk a five mile hike with the their car had been too big to make the journey, still somehow as alert as an eel cooking in a pot detailed.  
  
Though, David having to pry the chest cavity open after Somerset had decapitated the thing hadn't helped.  
  
  
Taking in another breath of the oxygen from the tank Somerset had suggested he hit up whenever he felt like puking, Mills also hawked spit into the nearby emesis basin, where it settled onto the rotting offal Somerset had been tossing into it since the brain in the severed head had yielded no information.  
  
Whatever that might be.  
  
  
"If you're finding it too difficult to keep going at this," Somerset spoke after David returned to spreading the chest cavity flaps like oversized, soggy butterfly wings, counting the pinpricks he'd had to make with needles and the clamps he had to keep adding like they were all the stars in Orion, "We could always put it in the freezer. Get some food and a rest for once."  
  
"We're here, might as well get it done now," he replied, rubbing the side of his face with his sleeve to prevent the need to sneeze, "We leave it here, it'll just attract attention from the other zombie fuckers."  
  
"No it won't," Somerset sighed, taking a clamp and pinching an artery that had started wiggling around on its own like an oversized, beheaded worm; spurting black ooze that had the consistency of ice cream that had thawed and started coagulating in the summer sun. Quite out of place in mid-autumn, "We've checked the area and stocked enough materials in the event in a sudden increase of the hoard. And your hands are shaking, so continuing now when you're not far from falling asleep on your feet is ill advised."  
  
David almost snapped and snarled about William minding his own business, but found a blood and gore soaked hand before his face, already five steps ahead of him. Practically pressing the "silent" button on a TV remote.  
  
"We can dip into that wine we've had distilling. It's been four weeks and should be passable with the goose back at home."  
  
"...Fine."


End file.
